


Still Mine

by WarriorBeeoftheSea



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [26]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Book 2: Wayward Son, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), DEC 20 - Missing/Deleted Scene, M/M, Missing Scene, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea/pseuds/WarriorBeeoftheSea
Summary: "He’s sitting there on a black leather armchair. He’s sitting there in blue silk with red roses, shotgun scars shining on his pale chest. His hair is wet. His teeth are sharp. His feet are bare."He used to be mine."Maybe he still is. A little bit. Enough that I’m allowed to look at him."But he’s less mine than he was three hours ago, that’s for bloody sure. He’s less mine every minute we spend in this town."
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557757
Comments: 18
Kudos: 257
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Still Mine

**Penny**

I watch Simon watching Baz. I’m not sure what to do. I’m not sure that there’s anything I _can_ do.

Baz has moved to the couch by the window, but Simon is still watching him. I think vaguely back to all the times I watched Simon stare at Baz in school, _just like now,_ and I choke back a laugh. I cover it with a cough, and Shepard looks at me with worry.

I wave him away. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

**Simon**

We’re just about done with our dinner. Not that we’ve put much of a dent in the food. But everyone has slowed their eating. Even me. (Honestly, I’ll be hungry later.)

Baz is sitting by himself still. I want to go to him. Knock him onto his back and make him tell me he’s mine. That I’m his. I want to breathe his breath and let it reassure me.

Penny stands abruptly. “Shepard, come with me. We’re going for a walk.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

She catches my eye before she answers. “We’ll be out an hour or so.”

Shepard is blathering on the edge of my awareness _(“But why? What about these two?”)_ while I suck in a breath.

“We’ll knock real loud when we get back.” She smirks at me, and drags Shepard to the door. Ah. True friend, Penelope is.

Baz is watching from the couch, his eyes wide.

**Baz**

Oh bloody hell.

I watch Simon trail Bunce and the Normal to the door. Bunce whispers something to Simon, and he nods soberly. She whispers something else and he gapes at her, his face flushing. She laughs, and then she’s out the door, dragging the blustering Normal behind her.

Simon leans heavily against the door, avoiding my gaze.

Then he turns and secures the chain on the door.

Oh _bloody hell._

**Simon**

I don’t know what I’m doing. And now Baz is watching me, and I _still_ don’t know what I’m doing.

He’s still sat by the window, but he moves his plate from his lap as he looks at me. I don’t know whether to read that as an invitation. (It certainly doesn’t scream _go away.)_

“What did Bunce say just now?”

I feel my face burning. “Nothing!” I say it too fast, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. “Just… inappropriate joke. About… about sex. And you and me…”

Baz frowns. Oh _fuck,_ of course he frowns. Because this is an awful idea. I don’t know if this even _is_ an idea. I still don’t know what I’m doing.

“I’m not… I mean, I’m not trying to push you, Simon.”

_Oh._ He thinks _he’s_ pushing _me._

**Baz**

Simon is so far away. All the way across the room. Too far away when he lowers his eyes to the floor near my feet. Too far when he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear him, “You’re not pushing me.”

I want to stand and stride over to him and press him hard against the door. But I’m afraid to move. Afraid to push him, even if he says I’m not.

“Come here?” It’s a risk. Every move feels like a risk. Like I’ll hold him too tight and he’ll slip away.

He meets my eyes. Then he’s walking over to me.

I expect him to sit next to me on the couch, so it’s a shock when he drops to his knees on the floor by my feet, his hands pressed to the tops of my thighs.

**Simon**

Baz sucks in a sharp breath and I realize with a start just how _sexual_ this feels. I mean, I knew that it would. But I’ve still managed to shock myself.

His knees are spread enough for me to slot myself between them, but his feet are in my way. _Or maybe I just want an excuse to touch his feet,_ I think. I slide my hands down his calves and wrap one around the arch of each foot.

I don’t think I’ve ever touched Baz’s feet before. There are things I want to do to them, and I’m caught for a moment between _wanting_ and the _terror_ of wanting _._ I almost roll my eyes at myself. _Of course I have a perverse foot thing. That’s just perfect._

Baz is holding his breath. I pull his feet apart and crowd against the couch, knees pressed where his feet had been. My hands linger too long on his feet, my thumbs stroking his arches. I squeeze gently, and his eyes slip closed. _Does he like this, too? Or is he just hard up for affection of any kind?_

I release his feet and lean forward to put my hands tentatively on his hips. _I still don’t know what I’m doing._ He sighs, and hooks his feet together around the backs of my thighs.

His eyes shoot open and he lets his feet drop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean—”

_Why is my boyfriend apologizing for touching me?_ I know why, and shame floods through me.

“Don’t apologize. _Please.”_ I don’t mean for it to sound pleading, but it does. I almost can’t breathe. “Please, please, _please.”_ My heart is beating faster, and I feel the panic racing up my spine. I lean forward to press my lips messily to his, and he bends to meet me. _Please, please, please, please._ I don’t know what I’m asking for. What I’m begging for.

Baz settles his hands on my face and lets me kiss him a moment, but then soon, all too soon, he’s pulling away. _Please don’t leave me._ I can’t bear it. I sit back on my heels, defeated. _Please don’t leave me._ I can’t say it. _Please._

He leans to follow me, his hands never leaving my face. He presses his forehead against mine, and I almost sob.

“Simon. _Shh._ Love.” And he’s pushing his fingers through my hair, and I’m leaning into it. Reveling in his touch. “Come on, Snow, pull yourself together.”

I let out a watery laugh. He kisses my cheek.

**Baz**

I don’t know what’s happening, but at least it’s something. Simon is breathing deep through his mouth, puffing air across my lips. His eyes are closed, and he’s clutching at the fabric of my jacket.

“Baz.” He pulls away and looks at me.

Before I can answer, he’s climbing onto my lap.

**Simon**

My heart is so full of _something_ but it hurts to think about what. So I don’t think. I just follow my body.

**Baz**

Simon’s hands are in my hair. He’s tugging a little bit, and I don’t mind, and he’s tipping my head back to kiss me.

_I want you,_ I think.

I don’t say it. I just clutch at his back and let him push me into the couch, his weight heavy and warm pressing into me.

**Simon**

_Please._

_Let me—_

_I need—_

I say it before I can swallow it back down. I mumble it into his mouth.

“I need to feel you.” _I might die if I don’t._

(I don’t say that part. I rock my hips against him and hope he understands.)

**Baz**

Simon keeps tugging my hair gently with one hand, but moves the other to splay across my chest. I shiver against him and smother a whine against his mouth.

I have no idea how long this can last, but I don’t want to be the reason it stops.

**Simon**

I can feel Baz's prick stiffening against me, and I want him to put some fight into this, like I know he would if we’d done this in school.

_I wish we’d done this in school._

I bite his lip and he gasps. I want to bite harder, make it _hurt,_ but I can’t. I _can’t._

**Baz**

He's grinding against my lap, and I know he knows how hard I am for him. I almost want to apologize.

But he's hard too. So maybe it's ok.

Maybe I can…

**Simon**

Baz pushes me back, his hands on my face, and turns my head to press his lips against my neck.

I groan, and feel his mouth twitch into a smirk against my skin. Then he presses his tongue firmly against the pulse in my neck, and I can feel my heartbeat in his mouth.

The thought gets me hot. _What a weird thing to be turned on by,_ I think.

**Baz**

Simon likes this. And I like him like this. Handsy and warm over me. Squirming in my lap.

I almost get carried away.

I want to devour him.

**Simon**

All at once I want him on top of me.

**Baz**

Simon pulls away and looks at me darkly. Then he's climbing off my lap, and my heart clenches. _No, not yet. Stay a little longer. Please._

He maneuvers himself sideways onto the couch, balancing on his knees, and then he grabs my lapels and pulls me into him.

_Oh!_ I guess we're not done.

**Simon**

I lay back on the couch, and Baz follows me down, pressing his weight into me. His hips are slotted between my raised knees, and this is all so much. I want him to pin my wrists above my head. _Would he do that if I asked?_

(I don't ask.)

**Baz**

I'm bracing myself over Simon, but he tugs at my hands where they press into the couch. Twines his fingers with mine, first one hand, then the other.

I almost stop breathing as I shift my weight from both hands, to one, to just the press of my body against Simon's.

**Simon**

Baz leans his face down to mine and I expect a kiss, but it doesn't come. He brushes his nose against the side of mine, and breathes against my lips, and waits. Like he's asking me a question.

I want the answer to be _yes, always yes, forever yes._

But I'm afraid of the question.

I tip my chin up and capture his lower lip in mine.

**Baz**

Simon is letting me kiss him like this. With me on top of him.

Or really, Simon is kissing me. It's all the same really, except it's not.

His palms are still pressed to mine, our fingers intertwined. I don't know if he wants me to press his hands down, or...

And I'm afraid to ask.

He's guiding the kiss with his body. Steering me with his knees around my hips.

I shift a little of my weight off of his chest and onto his hands, and he sucks in a sharp breath. I pull back to look at his face, lifting myself just a little bit, and he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Just a little bit. But there's fear on his face.

I untangle my hands from his and hold myself over him. His breath is shallow, and he puts his palms to my chest. Between us. Like he might want to push me away.

**Simon**

I feel a pull in my gut to yank Baz by the collar squarely on top of me, and let his hips drive me into the sofa. That might be the part of me that's curious about what it would be like if he...

If I...

I want him to fuck me.

But it's like there's also an intense pushing sensation in my chest. Like if I have Baz like that, if _he_ has _me_ I'll suffocate and die.

I want to cradle his head against my shoulder, press his face into the crook of my neck, and make him move on top of me. Make him rock into me until we're both spent.

_Why can't I fuck my boyfriend?_

**Baz**

Simon pushes gently and I climb off of him, sitting back on my heels between his legs. He throws an arm across his eyes and lets out a long breath. I worry he might be upset.

_Please don't go._

He pulls his arm away and pushes himself to sitting. Scoots back until his back is leaning against the arm of the sofa. And looks at me.

His legs are stretched out, his feet spread around my knees. I look at them. He's still wearing his boots, and I frown at them. Boots on the sofa, like an animal.

He's watching me, and he laughs. Nudges my knee with the instep of one of his boots.

**Simon**

Baz locks eyes with me and starts tugging at the laces of my boot, and _fuck me_ I never thought something like that could be so sexy. My breath is shallow. Shaky.

He has the knot undone, loosens the laces, and then he's pulling the boot off of my foot. All while giving me that _look._

He does the other shoe, and I close my eyes. It's too intense. His hands pull at my socks, and soon I'm barefoot. I look at him, his palms resting on the tops of my feet.

He's still staring at my face.

And then he slides his hands up the back of my calves, hitches them under my knees, and drags me towards him by the legs.

_Merlin,_ I'm going to die.

**Baz**

I've got Simon spread out below me, his thighs resting against mine, and I don't know what to do with him.

In my fantasies this is the part where I undo his belt.

I absolutely _cannot_ undo his belt.

I realize that I've been staring at Simon's belt buckle without meaning to. My eyes flick up to his face, and he's watching me.

He brings his own hands to his belt and starts working it open. I watch dumbly, my hands clutching his knees. I stare as he unfastens the button of his trousers. Slides down the zip.

I can see his pants. (They're blue.)

I can also see the outline of his cock.

**Simon**

Great snakes, I am riled up. And terrified. And needy.

I want Baz to beg to fuck me. Because I'm his, and he doesn't want anyone else, ever. And I want to let him.

And I also want to be able to slip out of my body while it happens.

I close my eyes and take a slow breath. I'm not ready for that. For fucking. I want so much to be ready, but I'm _not._

And Baz knows, and he'll never beg for it, even if he really wants it. _Needs_ it.

I want him to need me like he needs blood.

**Baz**

Simon reaches a hand into his pants and pulls his cock out.

_Crowley._ I don't dare breathe. My palms are sweaty against his trousers. My eyes flick up to his eyes, and he's watching me intently, but I can't help it when my eyes snap back to his hand on his cock.

He starts stroking it.

**Simon**

I'm wanking on a hotel sofa with Baz hovering over me, watching.

I try not to think too much about it. I need this. _Baz_ needs this.

_Please, let us have this._

I hook my bare feet around Baz's thighs and pull myself closer to him, until my arse is just touching his knees.

I keep stroking myself, and lean up to reach for his waistband with my other hand. I give his trousers a good tug, and then collapse back into the sofa with a moan. I hope he catches my meaning.

**Baz**

I watch Simon writhe on the sofa, hitching up his shirt with his free hand. He runs his hand over his bare stomach, and I want to lick the line of hair trailing down from his navel.

But I don't.

Instead I work my own trousers open, hoping I haven't misunderstood him. I pull my own cock out and start stroking it, trying to match Simon's rhythm.

He groans, and watches me.

**Simon**

Baz is wanking, and I'm watching him, and he's letting me.

I'm also fantasizing about him earlier, drunk and thirsty. Pressing his face into my neck. Wanting me. Needing me.

He was pretending, but I try not to dwell on that.

I imagine him losing control. Grabbing me, dragging me into an alley. Or throwing me onto the bed.

Even just claiming me with his hands. Clutching me everywhere.

I want him on top of me. _But I also don't._

I want him carried away and pressing into me, knocking my hand away and taking me in his own hand. In his mouth.

But I _can't._

I push myself up on my elbow so I'm closer to him. I need him close. I look at his face, and let my mouth drop open with a moan, and then I arch back into the sofa, surging with pleasure.

I listen to him groan.

**Baz**

The muscles in Simon's thighs are trembling around me. I want to flatten myself against him, just exist with no space between us, pleasure rolling through us as one entity.

I rise off of my heels and lean over him. His eyes widen, and I almost pull back, but I don't. Instead, I brace myself over him with a hand next to his waist. Not touching.

My cock brushes his, and I whine. I watch his face for a reaction. _Was that too much?_

He slows his rhythm and brushes the head of my cock with his knuckles. Slowly, almost accidentally. Except I can tell it's on purpose. An invitation? I let my pinky brush across the underside of his shaft, and he grins at me.

**Simon**

I definitely want us to jerk each other off, but not today. Not right now. I try to make sexy eyes at Baz, but he raises an eyebrow and I figure I must look daft. But he seems to get me when I return my hand to my own prick.

I feel like I should be embarrassed about what I'm doing. Wanking in front of Baz.

But I'm not. And if I was, the pleasure and the closeness, Baz's scent, his sounds, they've all pushed the thought out of my head.

I think about what Baz must look like when he comes. I'm about to see that.

What must _I_ look like?

I wonder about whether Baz used to do this in school. In our room. Maybe with me asleep next to him, an arm's length away.

I close my eyes and imagine him, tucked under his blanket watching me. Making the sounds he's making now, but his hand clapped over his mouth to muffle them.

**Baz**

Simon is closing his eyes and arching back and moaning up at the ceiling. I wonder what he's thinking about.

I wonder if I should stop before I come on his belly. Would he want that? Somehow I can't ask him.

I push away the mental images and fantasies I've built up in my head. Simon Snow, writhing underneath me. My come splattered over his skin.

I try to focus on now. This. What we're doing right now.

He reaches up with his free hand and clutches at me. My jacket. My hair. My jaw. His hand moves from spot to spot like he can't hold still. But like it's important for him to keep me there.

He gasps, and his eyes fly open. "Baz." I can feel his heart speed up. Panic? "Baz. Please stop looking at me. Close your eyes." I do, without hesitation. "I don't want you to look at me."

I hum in assent, but my heart breaks for him.

I turn my face and catch his palm in a kiss, and he whimpers.

In the end, he's pulling my hair when he comes, and the combination nearly does me in.

**Simon**

My eyes are squeezed shut, and I'm still rolling through my own pleasure, when Baz comes above me with a groan. And I tell myself to open my eyes and look at his face, but I can't.

My belly is covered in come, both mine and his, and I want to laugh and cry all at once.

His body starts to slow, and I think he's nearly done.

I'm spent, and rest my hands up around my head while I catch my breath.

I open my eyes and watch as a final shudder works through Baz, and then he stills.

**Baz**

I want to collapse onto Simon and let the mess on his belly squish between us.

_Disgusting,_ I tell myself.

Instead, I sit back on my heels and tuck myself back into my trousers. Simon is staring at the ceiling, his face unreadable.

I don’t know what to do now.

**Simon**

I know Baz is trying to figure out his next move, that he’s waiting for me to give him a clue. And all at once I feel terrible about everything.

I try to hold back the tears. I cover my face with my hands, and try to pretend they aren’t coming.

**Baz**

Simon is crying and I can’t breathe. We were intimate for the first time, and now he’s crying, and it’s my fault.

I feel the tears welling up in my own eyes. For _fucks_ sake. This is not helpful.

I want to be angry, not whatever I am right now.

Sad. Guilty. Powerless. Afraid.

Tears start falling down my face, and I watch Simon’s breath hitch with his own.

I have to take care of him.

I love him.

**Simon**

Baz climbs off the sofa, and I’m angry at myself for driving him away. _Of course he’ll leave you like this. This was supposed to be fun, but you cocked it up._

I want to tell him this wasn't a mistake. _I'm_ a mistake, but this wasn't. 

But I can't talk. _He needs to know._

And I suddenly can’t breathe, and I gasp for air. It turns into a sob, and then I can’t pretend anymore. _I need to tell him._

But then I feel a hand on my wrist.

**Baz**

“Simon,” I whisper. I’m afraid of making it worse. “Can I—” I curse at myself for being too afraid to use my words, bite down, and start again. “Can I clean you up?”

He takes a long, shaky breath and nods.

I have a warm wet flannel from the en suite, and I wipe his belly with it gently. And I burn with shame. _Did I push him?_

I pull his pants up, and re-fasten his trousers. I try to be careful not to touch him, but my hands are shaking.

“There you go.” I pat his shoulder, and immediately feel stupid.

He still has his hands over his face, and doesn’t say anything.

I sit there stupidly, waiting. Hoping for some great insight on what to do now. And I’m holding a dirty flannel in my hand.

I guess I’ll start there. I get up to take it to the loo to rinse it out.

**Simon**

Baz is in the loo, and I feel like curling in on myself. Instead I roll into the back of the sofa, burying my face in a pillow.

And then he’s curling around me, slipping an arm over my waist. Slotting his body flush with mine. And it feels _good._

I don’t have the words to tell him that. So I clutch his hand and intertwine our fingers, and press his hand over my heart.

"Did I push you? I didn't mean to." His voice is shaky, and I worry he might cry now.

I shake my head. "No, love. It's just me. I'm a disaster."

"You're not."

He kisses the spot just behind my ear. That usually turns me on, so I don’t like him to do that much. But it just feels like love right now.

Baz holds me for a long time, and my breathing slowly evens out.

**Baz**

I slip my hand from Simon’s, and he clutches half-heartedly at it. I run my hand over the spot on his back where his wings are hidden. “May I unspell these?” I’m almost afraid to ask him.

He turns and looks at me. “No, I— I want you to keep holding me.”

I smile shyly at him. “I can still hold you with your wings out.”

He hesitates, then nods.

**Simon**

Baz sits up and looks for Penny’s bell. He finds it and clutches it in his palm.

“Shove over a bit, will you?”

I look up at him and he gestures towards the edge of the sofa. I inch over, leaving a sliver of space between me and the back of the sofa.

It’s enough for Baz. He awkwardly climbs over me and presses against me face to face. I squirm until my face is level with his collarbone.

He slips an arm under my neck and rests his forearm against my back. Then he loops his other arm over my waist, and I am surrounded by Baz arms. Completely wrapped up.

I press my face into his neck.

He rings the bell, and my wings spring from my back. I flinch against him.

**Baz**

I drop the bell to the floor and stroke Simon’s back, between the joins of his wings. He flinched when I unspelled them, but then he relaxed against me. I want to soothe him. Help him relax.

I want him to know how much I love him. I wish I could say it in a way he’d believe. In a way he’d _understand._

I’ll try to show him.

**Simon**

I drape my free arm over Baz’s waist and tuck the tips of my fingers into the back of his waistband, anchoring them there. The arm pressed between us is starting to go tingly, but I try to ignore it. I _need_ this right now, more than I need circulation.

“Baz,” I whisper. 

He hums in acknowledgment.

“I’m sorry.”

He tightens his arms around me. “Don’t be.”

—

I’m dozing in Baz’s arms when Penny bangs on the door. The knock startles me and I almost roll off the sofa.

“Give us a moment, Bunce!” Baz yells towards the door.

I sit up and rub at my face. I must look a fright, but I can’t be arsed to care.

Baz sits up next to me, smoothing his hair down. (I think he fell asleep, too.)

Penny bangs on the door again. “Come on, are you decent yet?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Give us a bloody _minute,_ Bunce.”

Then he turns to me. Looks at my face. (I try to resist the urge to hide from his gaze.) He cradles my face in his palms, and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

I almost start crying again.

Maybe he is still mine. 


End file.
